Mighty little credit, that,
      To my self-denial;
    Not to love her, though, might be
      Something of a trial,
    Why, the rosy light, that peeps
      Through the glass above her,
    Lingers round her lips:—­you see
      E’en the sunbeams love her.

    So to make my merit more,
      I’ll go beyond the letter;
    Love my neighbor as myself? 
      Yes, and ten times better. 
    For she’s sweeter than the breath
      Of the Spring, that passes
    Through the fragrant, budding woods,
      O’er the meadow-grasses.

    And I’ve preached the word I know,
      For it was my duty
    To convert the stubborn heart
      Of the little beauty. 
    Once again success has crowned
      Missionary labor,
    For her sweet eyes own that she
      Also loves her neighbor.

    MARRIAGE A LA MODE.
    A Trilogy.

    I.
    LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM. 
    A.D. 1880.

    “Thank you—­much obliged, old boy,
      Yes, it’s so; report says true. 
    I’m engaged to Nell Latine—­
      What else could a fellow do? 
    Governor was getting fierce;
      Asked me, with paternal frown,
    When I meant to go to work,
      Take a wife, and settle down. 
    Stormed at my extravagance,
      Talked of cutting off supplies—­
    Fairly bullied me, you know—­
      Sort of thing that I despise. 
    Well, you see, I lost worst way
      At the races—­Governor raged—­
    So, to try and smooth him down,
      I went off, and got engaged. 
    Sort of put-up job, you know—­
      All arranged with old Latine—­
    Nellie raved about it first,
      Said her ‘pa was awful mean!’
    Now it’s done we don’t much mind—­
      Tell the truth, I’m rather glad;
    Looking at it every way,
      One must own it isn’t bad. 
    She’s good-looking, rather rich,—­
      Mother left her quite a pile;
    Dances, goes out everywhere;
      Fine old family, real good style. 
    Then she’s good, as girls go now,
      Some idea of wrong and right,
    Don’t let every man she meets
      Kiss her, on the self-same night. 
    We don’t do affection much,
      Nell and I are real good friends,
    Call there often, sit and chat,
      Take her ’round, and there it ends. 
    Spooning!  Well, I tried it once—­
      Acted like an awful calf—­
    Said I really loved her.  Gad! 
      You should just have heard her laugh. 
    Why, she ran me for a month,
      Teased me till she made me wince;
    ‘Mustn’t flirt with her,’ she said,
      So I haven’t tried it since. 
    ’Twould be pleasant to be loved
      Like you read about in books—­
    Mingling souls, and tender eyes—­
      Love, and that, in all their looks;